An Unexpected Voyage
by WriterGreenReads
Summary: We all know that Prussia was destined to be dissolved in 1947. But what if, on that fateful day, he ended up someplace else entirely? Now, farther away from home than he could ever have dreamed of, Prussia learns about the universe, his home, his people, and himself in an unexpected voyage.
1. Chapter 1

**I noticed that there was a conspicuous lack of crossovers of this variety in the database, so I thought, eh, why not? My attempt to do something mostly original. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Prussia, 1947

It's funny what you think about when you know you're about to die.

Who would've thought that it would all come to this? He knew that it happened, of course. All nations did. Ancient Greece, Germania, the Roman Empire. They all came to an end. But no, not him. Never him. The mighty nation of Prussia would never die. Never be forgotten, locked away in the dusty tomes of history. And yet here he was.

It wasn't even a _good_ ending. Prussia snorted from where he stood rigidly at attention, blue uniform spotless and crisp. He had been allowed to wear it as his last tribute to his country. Dissolution. Not a mighty downfall, no last battle that was fiercely fought to the last man. _Nein_ , not for him. Out with a whimper.

Prussia felt a faint burning behind his eyes, but kept his face blank and stoic. He would not cry. It was unawesome, and besides, he would be _damned_ before he showed any sign of weakness before the other nations. He flicked his view to them without moving his head.

England stood on the far left of the courtyard, with his guards standing at attention behind him. The blond nation's brow was furrowed as he watched over the proceedings. A faint scowl was present on his features. He was still leaning heavily on his cane, and it was clear that he was conflicted over something.

France stood close to England, closer than he would have before the war. Prussia felt a momentary stab of guilt at the sight of his former friend's crutches. France was staring at the ground, looking anywhere but at the spectacle before him. It had been two years since the war was officially over, and yet the French nation still wasn't back on his feet. It would take many years before the effects of the fighting would fade into nothing more than a nightmarish memory.

The man-whatever his name was- in charge of the address was still going on with his stupid speech. "…and it is due to these actions, and for all purposes…" A harsh wind whipped through the clearing, biting Prussia with its icy chill. Its mournful howl moaned mockingly in his ears.

Prussia looked out for what he considered his last time at the assembled nations, picking out faces and mentally saying good-bye. There was America, looking supremely uncomfortable and sad. It was a shame; America hadn't wanted any of this. This was probably one of his first times seeing a nation that he knew personally die. The Italies, Romano staring angrily at the ground, Veneziano looking teary-eyed. Ah, he would miss those two _D_ _ummkopfe_. Austria, blank-faced and somberly dressed. Hungary stood beside him. She was scowling, but Prussia could tell (years of experience) that she wasn't angry, just… sad. That surprised him. Maybe she did care after all.

A faint prickle crept up the back of Prussia's neck as he spotted Russia. Russia was smiling his innocent smile, seemingly oblivious to the mood around him. They locked gazes for a moment. Russia's smile grew wider and colder, a faint sparkle of madness making its way into his eyes. Against his will, Prussia shivered ever so slightly. Russia's boss and government were in turmoil, and that seemed to be affecting Russia more than anyone else knew.

All at once, a great wave of despair washed over Prussia. He swiftly looked downwards, staring hard at the dirt ground. He was going to die. And there wasn't anything else he could do about it; he was just going to… disappear. He closed his eyes. What would it be like? At least… he could see _Vater_ again. And Old Fritz too.

Faintly, Prussia heard the man coming to the end of his speech. He snapped his head up, frantically searching for his brother. There he was, on the far right, alone amidst the sea of people. Germany looked exhausted, but he still stood straight and tall. Prussia met his younger brother's icy blue gaze, and was shocked to see the faint track of a tear glimmering in the weak sunlight.

Prussia could feel a numb tingling sensation spreading over his entire body. So here it was.

"…and with this, we hereby declare the nation of Prussia forevermore…"

Prussia smiled sadly. _I'm sorry._ " _Auf Wiedersehen, Bruder,_ " he whispered.

A white light blinded Prussia. He closed his eyes and accepted it.

Then the world was gone.

* * *

The Delta Quadrant, 2376

Many thousand light years away from home, a lone starship sailed smoothly through space at warp 7.

Captain Janeway sat loosely in the captain's chair on bridge, fingers drumming the side of her mug of coffee. The faint whirring and beeping noises from the computer systems and the hiss of air from the environmental systems filled the quiet room. The morning shift was present and at their posts. Janeway, gazing blankly at the constant flow of stars on the main viewscreen, didn't notice her second in command approaching until his amused voice cut through her thoughts.

"Contemplating the higher mysteries of the universe?" Chakotay asked, sliding into his chair. Janeway started, jolted out of her reverie. She locked glances with him, a faint smile making its way onto her face.

"I'm contemplating _something_ ," she said with a small huff of laughter, leaning back in her chair. She pursed her lips in mock deliberation, tilting her head to the side. "I'm not entirely sure what, but I'm working on it."

Chakotay chuckled softly. "While you're figuring that out, might I suggest a word of advice? Avoid the mess hall for a while."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "Indeed, Commander? Is there any specific reason?"

Chakotay's grin broadened and he shook his head. "No." He paused, as if remembering something. "In fact, if you find yourself having sudden cravings for sauerbraten, sauerkraut, and boiled potatoes, then I suggest you stop by."

Janeway grinned as well, putting down her mug. "If I'm not mistaken, that sounds very German of Mr. Neelix. How did he come by those recipes?" Before Chakotay could reply, she held out a hand, forestalling him. "Let me guess. Our resident 20th century lover has a new holodeck program."

Chakotay nodded in mild amusement and amazement. "Right in one. How did you know?"

Janeway settled back in her chair again, a small smirk on her lips. "Let's just say that Mr. Paris has been very enthusiastic about it. I believe that he and Harry have a time slot in the holodeck around now." She crossed her legs and picked up her coffee again, toasting it forwards in a mock salute. "To the mighty conquests of Mr. Paris and Mr. Kim as they face the dangers of World War Two." She brought the cup to her lips, taking a sip. "Although it does sound rather interesting. Maybe I'll have to try it and see what it's all about."

Chakotay went to reply, but was cut off when something rocked the ship with a dull _thrum_. A few alarms beeped frantically in response as the lights dimmed and flickered. After a couple seconds, they brightened again and continued as though nothing had happened.

Janeway frowned and set her cup down from where she had rescued it. She stood up and assumed an attentive position. "Report."

"Voyager seems to have encountered a small temporal anomaly," Tuvok replied from behind his station. The Vulcan's dark hands flew deftly over the computer screen. "It initiated a sudden power surge in the auxiliary systems. A few of them are offline." He glanced up and met the Captain's gaze. "There appears to be only minor damage."

"Have Engineering work on getting them back online." Janeway tapped her comm badge. "Bridge to Astrometrics."

"Seven of Nine here." The former Borg drone's calm voice filtered through the comm system.

"Did you get a reading on the temporal anomaly we just hit?" Janeway questioned. There was a moment's pause.

"Yes." You could practically see Seven as she scanned her cold data, processing it faster than any normal human could. "It was approximately 1.77 meters in length, and impacted the starboard side of the hull. Upon impact, it sent an energy surge throughout Voyager's hull, disrupting several auxiliary systems, including internal sensors, communications, holo-emitters, and turbolifts." There was another pause as Seven finished her dispassionate report. "It is not of importance. I will note it in ships logs."

"Thank you, Seven." Janeway closed the communications with another tap of her comm badge.

* * *

"Why are we doing this again?" Kim sighed, tugging at the collar of his near perfect replica of a black Gestapo uniform. The thing was stiff and heavy.

Paris looked up from the computer panel outside Holodeck One and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on Harry!" He pulled on his pair of replicated leather gloves once he was done tapping last minute commands into the matrix. Paris theatrically shook his head in mock exasperation. "I did your last holoprogram, so now _you_ have to do one of mine. It was our deal, remember?"

"I remember!" Kim replied indignantly. His voice turned dry. "But was it really necessary to get Neelix to cook an 'authentic German meal?'"

"Just getting in the spirit of things. Don't be such a downer."

"At least _my_ last holoprogram was interesting," Kim muttered under his breath.

Paris scowled at him as he pressed the command code to open the doors. They whooshed open to the sight of a dark, uneven alleyway lined by tall buildings. "I heard that."

The familiar ringing tone greeted them after they stepped through the archway. The metallic structure that was so out of place in the 20th century setting vanished as though into thin air. Kim shivered a bit at the unexpected bite of cold air, suddenly grateful for his thick coat.

Paris, hands shoved deep in his pockets, turned on the spot appreciatively, taking in the sights. It was early evening here. The sun was sinking its rosy glow behind the pointed rooftops, and the wind was slightly damp with the promise of rain.

"Not bad, if I do say so myself." Paris began his brisk walk down the alleyway, Kim following closely behind. Kim nodded absentmindedly as he also searched the surroundings. It was fairly impressive.

A deep thrumming sound reverberated through the deck plating, rattling the two of them down to their core. The ground shook, and the entire program flickered for a moment, the precise black and yellow pattern of the holodeck showing as the surrounding city shimmered out of reality and back in.

Kim frowned, and the pair of them stopped walking. They looked at each other.

"What was that?"

Paris turned on the spot again, this time scrutinizing the images surrounding him. Satisfied that there would be no more disappearing, he shrugged and turned back to Kim, his posture relaxing.

"It was probably just some turbulence." Seeing a familiar look on his best friend's face, Paris groaned in protest.

"It's _fine_ , Harry. If we were needed, then we would have been called." He pulled a long face. "This is the first time in _two weeks_ that we get the holodeck all to ourselves." Paris slung an arm over Kim's reluctant shoulder. "Let's try to enjoy it, alright?"

Kim sighed and grinned, giving in. "Alright. It was probably nothing anyways."

* * *

Prussia wasn't sure of what to think. In fact, the only clear thought going through his mind at the moment was, _"If I'm dead, then why does it hurt so damn much?!"_

His eyes flickered open, and he winced at the sudden influx of sunlight. Blinking, he forced himself to wake up and shake the grey fog out of his head. The nation grumbled softly and pushed himself up into a more stable position, noticing that he was currently leaning against a very rough and uncomfortable wall on the very cold and uncomfortable ground.

Prussia shook his head to clear the last traces of fuzziness away and took in his surroundings. Buildings. A dark alleyway. There was no one else in sight.

A hollow pain ran through his chest, and he gasped, pressing a hand to it instinctively.

" _Was…_ "

A stark realization hit him as suddenly as a thunder bolt. He couldn't feel _anyone_.

All nations carried their citizens in their hearts. They instinctively knew all of them and were deeply tied with their people, much more so than their physical lands and selves. It was one of the nicer things about being a nation. All the nations also felt parts of each other as well. It was always there, like a faint brush in the back of their minds. (A few nations used to the exasperation of others. Denmark, after driving over the Swedish/Danish border repeatedly at 2 in the morning was finally met by a very pissed off Sweden with a Finnish-made sniper rifle. Needless to say, he was encouraged to stop.)

But now… Prussia drew a deep, shuddering breath. There was no one. None of his people, no lands, no Earth-sense… no nations.

He was alone.

Prussia stayed where he was for a moment, staring blankly at the wall across from him. If he was dead… then this was hell.

The nation scowled and pushed himself up on his feet. He hissed at the sudden surge of pain, and clutched the rough stone of the wall as the world spun dizzyingly around him. "Damn it!"

Prussia breathed in through his nose and willed the world to steady. It did, after a few disorienting moments. He looked up, finally paying more attention to his surroundings.

With the terrifying loss of his Earth-sense, he had no idea where he was. However… Prussia stumbled over to the edge of the alleyway and stopped as he completely viewed the city around him for the first time. Familiar buildings rose in the distance, and even more familiar people walked through the streets. This was Berlin. His brother's heart.

Prussia half-smiled at the thought of that. But even that didn't cheer him up all the way. This city wasn't real. He couldn't feel it. The land, the houses, even the men and women passing by... all seemed as insubstantial as the wind to him. None of them existed. This was a place of ghosts.

His outstretched hand, steadying himself on the wall, made a rustling sound as it dragged over a dry paper poster. He turned his head, startled by the noise, and froze for a second time. "No…"

Ripping the poster of the wall with a sudden grab, the Prussian nation stared the hateful thing with loathing. Hitler's familiar face stood out, almost mocking his plight. Prussia snarled under his breath. He was seconds away from ripping it up when his eyes strayed to the far right corner. 1942, read the date.

"Damn!" he swore again, finally crumpling the paper and hurling it as far as he could into the darkened alley. Prussia clenched his fists, posture stiff and unyielding.

With a swift motion, he spun and slammed his right fist into the stone wall besides him. The wall shook dangerously, accompanied by a rough smacking sound as flesh met brick. A protesting rocky groan sprung from the side of building. Prussia stayed there, breathing hard, his forehead pressed against the cool material. Then, carefully, he removed his bleeding hand from the powdery crushed indent his hand had left in the wall. Detachedly, he examined the raw splits on his knuckles and the dark bruising that had quickly formed around them, relishing in the pain that came from it. Prussia flexed his fingers and watched in disinterest as the skin healed over, the damage already disappearing from so minor an injury.

"Well," he muttered under his breath. "At least I still heal like a nation. And"- he glanced at the damaged wall, the first true smile since he had woken up playing a smug smirk around his lips-"I still punch like one too."

Prussia shoved both hands into his pockets of his Prussian blues, after giving them both one last cursory scan. He glanced around him and then set off down the not-street with a forced confidant air. If this was the afterlife, then he was going to make the best of it. Maybe someday he would find everyone else. Hah… he'd like to see Old Fritz again.

But first, Prussia needed a beer.

* * *

"So, where are we again?"

"Berlin, the capital of Germany, 1942," Paris answered. The pair of them paused as they came to the end of an alley, reaching a slightly busier street. Common folk passed by, a few giving the black-clad pair searching, cautious glances before hurrying on. Posters lined the wall, a familiar face on the one closest to the Starfleet men.

Kim sidestepped, coming closer to the poster. He traced the edge of the famously mustachioed face with a gloved forefinger. Hitler's fierce features stood out in the still photograph, face and body language impassioned. "That was the middle of World War 2, right?"

Paris joined him, staring at the poster with mild curiosity. "Yep. All the Allies have joined the war, but the Atomic bomb hasn't been dropped yet."

"And, who are we?" Kim asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend. He glanced down at his outfit. "I seem to remember the bad guys wearing this uniform."

"Well done Harry, you've brushed up on your history." Paris grinned. "We are, in fact, dressed as Gestapo agents."

Kim nodded thoughtfully, a slight frown on his face as he searched his memory for the days of his Earth history classes. "They were the Nazi's secret police, weren't they?"

Paris tilted his head and shrugged. "Eh, close enough. But _we_ "- he clapped his hands together, a pleased expression on his face-"are _not_ Gestapo agents. We are American spies who have infiltrated the Gestapo network and are now working with the underground."

Paris looked out on the main street for a moment, and then stepped out smartly onto the sidewalk, pulling his friend with him.

"Our first mission tonight"-he looked up at the sky and amended that statement-"this evening, is to meet up with another spy in the Hofbrau and get him out of Berlin safely."

"And how do we do that?"

Paris glanced over his shoulder. "We have papers, and he doesn't."

"Ah. What's his name?"

Paris took another left, slowing down as he came in sight of a cheerfully glowing building. He stopped, stepping with Kim into the shadows for a moment. The pair of them peeked watchfully around the corner before Paris turned back.

"Karl Langenscheidt. He's been secretly giving the Allies information about the German war effort."

Kim's eyebrow's furrowed in thought. "And why do we need to get him out of Berlin?"

"I don't know." Seeing Kim's incredulous look, Paris threw up his hands defensively. "Hey, that's part of the mission! All we got"- he dug into the left pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a crumpled slip of blue paper, smoothing it out so that it was legible-"was this letter from headquarters."

Kim leaned over his friend's arm, reading the spidery scrawl softly aloud. "Code name Blue Fox. Deliver package outside mansion this evening. Hofbrau. Fox hunting. Response: Out to the countryside." Kim looked skyward, thinking it over. His face cleared after a moment. "Oh, okay, I get it. Codes."

"You got it." Paris smirked and shoved the note back in his pocket. He stole one more quick look, and then headed across the street for the Hoffbrau. They stayed side by side as they entered the busy building.

* * *

Another thing that sucked about this whole being dead thing was they didn't have any good beer.

Prussia scowled down at the frothy lip of the mug he was currently holding. It was like everything else in this damn place. It _looked_ like beer, but it most definitely _not_ beer. "And they call themselves Germans…" he muttered in disgust.

The pretty young blond women behind the bar came back over to where he was seating, leaning against the edge of the wooden counter. She adjusted her apron and gave him a charming smile.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" she asked.

Prussia glanced up, mildly irritated.

"Yes, I have a question." At her questioning expression, the nation lifted his mug and set it down on the bar again with perhaps a little more force than necessary. The amber liquid sloshed against the glass sides, a few dribbles spilling over the edge. "What the hell is this?"

Her expression grew a little guarded and puzzled. "Isn't that they beer you ordered, sir?"

Prussia huffed in annoyance. He leaned across the bar top, a grumpy expression on his face.

" _Fraulein,_ I was drinking beer six hundred years before you were born." He gestured towards his rejected mug with a disdainful hand. "And I can tell you that whatever this is, it is definitely _not beer_." Prussia pushed himself backwards on his stool and crossed his arms.

The women just stared at him for a moment. Then, slowly, she took the beer up with a careful hand and left, giving a few concerned glances over her shoulder as she did so. Prussia rolled his eyes. So what if they thought he was crazy. Drinking fake beer like that was a disgrace to the name of Prussia.

Prussia spread his fingers out on the smooth counter, dully noting the faint, ever present hum that ran through every solid thing he touched. This place… He didn't know what to make of it. The people acted like normal people. The looked like them, down to the faint scents and body heat. And yet, they were all empty inside.

"What am I doing here?" Prussia asked softly. The deep emptiness inside his heart seemed to throb mournfully in reply.

The door to the bar opened, breaking across the quiet hum of conversation that filled the warmly-lit room. There was an audible pause as two black-clad men entered the Hoffbrau. Gestapo.

Prussia barely looked up in acknowledgement, still caught deep in his depressed thoughts. But then, a soft touch brushed the back of his mind.

The nation's white-haired head snapped up, zeroing in on the two newcomers in astonishment. Prussia's eyes widened. He quickly concentrated on the pair, red eyes narrowing. His breath caught.

They were alive.

They were _alive_.

He could feel both of them, not in the personal way he knew his own citizens, of course, but in that natural way that said, _"Yes, they are human. They exist._ " Their beings thrummed gently in his center.

Prussia quickly turned back to his seat, mind racing. A faint bubble of hope had risen in his chest. If _they_ were alive, then did that mean…

"I'm still alive," the Prussian nation whispered. A smile grew on his face. Then it dimmed, as it really dawned upon him what that meant.

What really was this place? And why was he here? Why _wasn't_ he dead?

Prussia watched out of the corner of his eye as the two of them approached one of the tables fairly close to him. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. The first one, looking supremely confident, was blond and blue-eyed, Hitler's idea of the perfect man. But the second one was _Chinese._ That was so wrong he couldn't even wrap his mind around it.

There were never any Chinese men in the Gestapo. There were never any in _any_ of the German armed forces. It simply did not happen. But there he sat, warily eyeing his surroundings, and nobody was batting an eyelash. It was the fact that nobody seemed to notice that had Prussia on edge. Were the ghost people supposed to miss things like that?

Prussia knew he needed to talk to those two.

The waitress that he had exchanged words with earlier had walked over to the pair seated at the table, inconspicuously avoiding Prussia as she went. Prussia leaned heavily on the counter, pretending to be completely engrossed in the empty glass that he had taken from a man who had just left after finishing his drink. Softly, yet clearly, he heard the blonde pose the same question she had asked everyone else, albeit with a bit more trepidation faced with two Gestapo men.

"What can I get you?"

Still watching in his peripheral, Prussia saw the blond man look up, smiling warmly at the young women.

"Nothing for the moment, but we'll tell you if we change our minds, okay?"

Prussia winced, hunching his shoulder slightly in surprise as an unexpected bolt of pain lanced through his head. That… was strange.

He could hear them speaking in perfect German, both with a natural _Hochdeutsch_ accent. But underneath that, at the very edge of his nation senses… He could also hear English. Their true accents stood out as boldly as the American flag they reminded him of.

Prussia risked a lazy glance over his shoulder, brow furrowed ever-so slightly in suspicion. Whoever these Americans were, he definitely needed answers from them. And soon.

* * *

"So," Kim asked softly, leaning forwards. "When was this Langenscheidt supposed to be here?" He glanced surreptitiously around him.

"Relax, Harry." Paris rested his chin in his palm, looking completely at ease. "He'll be here. Now ease up, will you? You'll blow our cover."

Kim sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I hope you know what you're doing…" he muttered. Paris smirked.

"When don't I?"

Kim gave him a sardonic look. Paris huffed, mildly offended.

"Such an overwhelming amount of faith in me."

"Yeah, well, I know you a bit too well."

There was a moment's pause at the table, covered up by the mild chatter that buzzed lowly in the background. Then-

"What's the counter-code again?"

Paris rolled his eyes and groaned.

"Jeez, Harry, you'd think that you'd never done this before."

"I haven't!" After looking around again, Kim lowered his voice. "But this isn't exactly like Captain Proton. This…" He struggled with his words for a moment. Kim frowned. "This just feels much more real, doesn't it? That's the difference. This _was_ a real period, and this is one of the most famous times in human history." Kim scratched the table absentmindedly. "It's setting me on edge."

Paris paused. He hadn't really thought of it like that before. He blew out a breath.

"Now that you mention it, this does feel different than the stuff you and I normally do on the Holodeck," he admitted. He nodded. "Blue Fox, counter is Out to the Countryside."

"Right."

The two of them went back to nonchalantly sitting and making small talk. Paris insisted on ordering a beer when the waitress came back, with Kim rolling his eyes at the not-so subtle flirting that his friend engaged in. Paris turned back to his friend, bewildered by the cold-shoulder he had just been given.

"What did I do?"

"Tom, you're forgetting." Kim leaned forwards and tapped the chest of Paris's black coat, not bothering to hide his grin. "Bad guys, remember?"

"Oh." Paris looked fairly disappointed. "Right."

"Excuse me."

Both Paris and Kim looked up, startled by the sudden interjection. A white-haired man stood there, an impassive look on his face. They quickly took in the blue uniform and the unusual, almost demonic-looking red eyes that stood out from his pale face.

Paris exchanged a quick glance with Kim.

"Can we help you?" Paris asked guardedly. The man's eyes flashed and a slight grin bared his teeth.

"You two wouldn't have happened to have seen a blue fox anywhere, have you?" The man asked softly, crossing his arms.

"No, but if you're looking for one, you might go out to the countryside to see for yourself," Kim replied smoothly, covering up his surprise admirably. Paris cocked an approving eyebrow in his direction before clearing his face into a politely interested mask.

The white-haired man didn't change expression, and instead sat down carefully in the open chair on that side of the table. Both Kim and Paris leaned forwards inconspicuously.

"Are you Langenscheidt?" Paris asked quietly. The man gave him an appraising glance.

"Not here." He pushed his chair back. "Meet me out back." With that, the man stood up and sauntered out the door, hands in his pockets. Paris pulled a wry face and turned back to Kim.

"Well, you don't see that every day. I didn't expect Langenscheidt to be an albino."

At Kim's raised eyebrow, Paris sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Blame the Doc, he's the one that had me study all those medical databases. That's why he has white hair and red eyes. It was pretty rare condition that used to affect people in the earlier centuries." Paris stood up himself, adjusted his collar and laying a few coins on the table. "I'm surprised he didn't get caught sooner, sticking out like that."

"Well, if nothing, he proved a very important point."

Paris gave his friend a puzzled look. "What?"

Kim gave his friend a sly grin. "You _can_ learn things if you try hard enough."

Paris scoffed as the two of them exited the Hofbrau through the back door. Stepping out onto the cool street again, he pulled up his collar and glanced around curiously.

"Do you see where Langenscheidt went?" He asked Kim in an undertone.

Kim shook his head, opening his mouth to reply, but stopped in surprise as Paris was suddenly slammed in to.

Paris reeled, stumbling forwards from the unexpected motion, an exclamation of surprise escaping him. His hand went to the holstered handgun at his belt, only to find it missing.

The pair of them looked up to see Langenscheidt standing in front of the two of them, having just completed the smooth spin that had carried him back away from Paris. His face was partially covered in shadows.

"What the hell was that?!" Paris exclaimed angrily. He started forwards, only to stop in concern at the gleaming handgun that was suddenly being leveled at him. The Starfleet man glanced down at his belt. Langenscheidt must have taken it in the brief moment of contact the two had had.

"I want answers." Langenscheidt's voice was low and fierce. "Who the hell are you two? And why are you here?"

"Hold on." Kim stepped forwards, hands up in a placating gesture. Langenscheidt swiveled to keep him in his sights, switching targets. "You know who we are. We were sent by headquarters to get you out of Berlin tonight. I'm Harry Kim." He jerked a thumb in Paris's direction. "That's Tom Paris." He lowered his hands. "Let us help. Whoever's after you, we can get you out safely."

"No," the Langenscheidt said harshly. His grip tightened dangerously on the gun. "Who are you _really_?"

At Paris and Kim's wary, confused glances, he snarled in impatience.

"Why is everything but you two not real?!"

 _That_ got a reaction out of the two Starfleet men. Paris jerked his head back in the albino man's direction, eye's wide. "What did you say?"

"You heard me." Langenscheidt narrowed his eyes. "You two are the only living people I've met in this damn place. And I want to know why."

* * *

 **Yay, Chapter 1 of a new story! A few things:**

 **If any of you understood and can tell me the references to a certain T.V show that I put in, you are an amazing human being and I bow in respect to your eternal knowledge.**

 **If any of you got my Star Trek reference, same to you.**

 **I am a fairly new fanfiction writer, so I would like your, the reader's opinion on this.- Do you prefer longer chapters (like this one) with a bit more time between updates, or short (around 1,000 words) chapters with weekly updates? (I mean, obviously it would be great to have both longer chapters and quick updates, but I unfortunately am not that great of a writer.)**

 **Please review, and if you have any questions or corrections, don't hesitate to voice them.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to everyone that has already read and reviewed!**

 **A special note to Kathy2378: Thank you so much for the corrections on my German. I** _ **do**_ **speak German, however I learned it by ear from my dad and therefore I don't have all the spelling/grammar and whatnot down. As for the other stuff, I'm simply a bad speller, and my computer doesn't spellcheck German or make the umlaut. I tried. Do you think you could help with that stuff? (Be my spellcheck, in a way.)**

* * *

"I hate you," Kim grumbled, wrapping his arms around himself. He shifted, trying to get more comfortable on the hard concrete underneath him.

Paris scowled back. "Hey, it's not my fault! How was I supposed to know the holodeck was on the fritz?!"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe you could have taken a hint when there was a power surge that temporarily knocked all of the holodeck's systems offline!"

"Hey, you agreed to keep going with me."

Kim sighed, irritated. "I guess that's true."

"Good. So stop whining, and help me find a way out of this." Paris peered closer at the lock keeping the metal door tightly fastened. "It looks like normal old fashioned manual lock."

"Well, I don't think they had voice recognition locks in the 20th century," Kim said, rolling his eyes.

"Hmm." Paris ignored his friend's sarcasm. After a moment, he too sighed, and sat back down on the ground. He leaned against the wall and scowled.

"I just don't see how Beilschmidt's perception filter could have corrupted so much that he immediately recognized that this was an artificial environment," Paris complained. Kim shrugged, brow furrowed in thought.

"Maybe the power surge did more than just overload the buffers," he said slowly, thinking it over. "It's possible that it got into the character database and temporarily overrode the filters."

They both thought back to the continuation of the confrontation with Beilschmidt.

 _Paris and Kim glanced at each other warily. The albino saw their directed gazes, and snarled with impatience._

" _Why is everything but you two not real?!"_

 _Kim glanced back at Paris again, eyes wide. That was new. Paris's face was blatantly shocked._

" _What did you say?" the blond Starfleet man demanded in astonishment. The albino tightened his grip on the handgun, eyes narrowing._

" _You heard me. You two are the only living people I've met in this damn place. And I want to know why."_

 _Kim stared at the ground, thinking furiously. Obviously, the perception filters were offline. It had probably been the power surge they had seen earlier. And if_ that _filter was offline…_

" _I have no idea what you're talking about," Kim said flatly. "Do you think everyone else is a ghost or something?" Paris shot him a subtle questioning look. Kim tilted his head in return, sending the message-_ Go with it _. Paris coughed, turning fully back to the other man._

" _Yeah, you must be mistaken. Maybe you're feeling just a little… paranoid?" Paris suggested. The albino's eyes gleamed with a feral light._

" _You want to play like that? Fine." He gestured with his gun. "Get moving. We'll see what the_ real _Gestapo has to say about you two."_

 _And so, they had ended up at the nearest headquarters. Not Gestapo (the man seemed to have an aversion to them), but military police. That had been another intriguing incident._

" _Yes. Gilbert Beilschmidt," the albino sighed in annoyance. He tapped the desk irritably, ignoring the equally annoyed gaze the private behind the desk gave him._

" _So, Mr…. Beilschmidt," the young man said, eyeing him suspiciously. "Can you show me your identification papers?"_

" _No, I already told you that," Beilschmidt grumbled. "They were stolen. But if you just called the Chancellery, then they could tell you-"_

" _I'm sorry, but I can't admit you or let you use the cells without proper identification," the man sniffed, turning away in his chair. Beilschmidt growled, slamming his hands on the desk. The private turned back, mouth open to indignantly tell him off, but choked as the fuming albino grabbed him by the collar and hauled him partially out of his seat._

" _Look," Beilschmidt hissed, his nose less than a foot away from the other man's. "I have two_ very dangerous _prisoners here"- he gestured with one hand to a slightly confused and wary Paris and Kim who were currently being covered by the two guards that had been standing inside the building when they had come in-"and it is of the utmost importance to the Third Reich that I keep them under guard." He shook the young man once with a quick, fierce shake. "Understood?!"_

" _Y-yes." The private's eyes flitted away from the other man's face._

" _Good." Beilschmidt dropped him unceremoniously. "Now make the call."_

 _Paris scrutinized the albino as the private quickly dialed a number into the rotary phone. It was odd. Beilschmidt looked to only be in his late 20's, but he gave off a much more confident air. He seemed older, the way he commanded respect._

" _Yes. This is Private Gruber at the Police Headquarters." Gruber glanced up quickly at the albino. Beilschmidt raised an eyebrow at him, nodding. Gruber swallowed and turned back to the phone. "I have a man here; he says his name is Gilbert Beilschmidt? I was wondering, could you give me authorization to-" Gruber paused as the person on the other end of the line said something. He quickly looked up again, surprise written on his face. "Y-yes. He does."_

 _Paris and Kim watched in interest as Gruber's face grew paler and paler as the man on the other end of the line continued. "Yes, at once! I'm very sorry to have disturbed you, sir." There was an audible click as the phone line disconnected. Gruber put the receiver down very slowly, looking shell-shocked._

 _There was a pause as the two men stared at each other in silence, the private looking terrified, Beilschmidt with a small smirk on his face. Then Gruber shot to his feet, saluting furiously. "_ Heil Hitler! _"_

" _Yes, yes, heil Hitler." Beilschmidt waved the man down, looking amused. "Can I use your cells now?"_

 _Gruber got out from behind the desk, stammering. "O-of course sir! At once!" He frantically gestured to the guards, who were watching the proceedings with an amused air. One got the sense that Gruber was not well liked. They brought Paris and Kim forwards with them and headed for the back of the hall._

 _Paris craned his head as he was marched down the hallway, trying to catch a last glimpse of Beilschmidt. The last thing he heard was Gruber bowing and scraping to the other man._

" _I am so sorry, sir, I didn't know… if there's anything else you need…"_

Kim nodded before grinning lopsidedly. "If that's the case, then you don't have to re-write the whole program. We can just reset the character's parameters and reboot it."

Paris sighed in relief. "Well, that's good news. We may as well do that now, while we still have time." He glanced around their small concrete cell. "It's not like we're going anywhere." He raised his voice. "Computer, end program."

Nothing happened. Paris frowned, getting to his feet. Kim followed suit.

"Computer?" Paris glanced at the ceiling. "Computer, respond."

Kim made a frustrated noise. "Great. We're stuck."

Paris scowled at his friend. "I thought you said that the power surge would have just overloaded the buffers!" Kim threw up his hands, making a face.

"Well, I don't know for sure, because I happen to be stuck in a 1940's cell!" Kim crossed his arms in exasperation. "It's safe to assume that it knocked other auxiliary systems offline as well. Including communications."

"Yeah, well there's one way to find out." Paris reached under his overcoat and tapped his communicator. The guards had searched him, but they didn't appear to have noticed the 24th century technology. So far, only Beilschmidt's program was malfunctioning. "Paris to Engineering."

"Torres here." The half-Klingon engineer sounded amused as she responded. "Already tired of your new toy?" Paris turned to Kim triumphantly.

"See? Communications are fine." Kim rolled his eyes.

"Actually," said Torres, who appeared to have overheard. "I just got them completely back online a minute or so ago." Kim gave Paris a smug glance. Paris scowled in return. "That turbulence you felt? It was a small, localized temporal anomaly that knocked most of the secondary systems offline." An irritated snort was heard over the line. "My morning's probably been a lot busier than you boys."

"Yeah, well, we're having a bit of trouble right now." Paris winced, glancing at Kim, who gave him a sarcastic _No, really?_ look. "Harry and I have a malfunctioning program we'd like to re-write, and the computer isn't responding. Do you think you could shut down Holodeck One?"

"Sure thing. Just give me a moment; I'll cut power to the holo-emitters." The pair currently in the cell waited patiently as Torres tapped away at some unseen computer screen in Engineering. "Okay, I found you. Holodeck One?"

"Yup."

"Got it." There was a pause. "Who else is in there with you? You already mentioned Harry. Did you rope some other poor unsuspecting crewman into it?"

"What? No," Paris said, puzzled. "It's just me and Harry in here." There was another pause from the Engineering end.

"Are you sure?" Paris and Kim exchanged a wary glance.

"Yeah, why?"

Perhaps the longest pause of all. A full five seconds passed before Torres responded, suspicion in her voice.

"Because the temporal anomaly impacted the exact spot on the hull that is perpendicular to your current position." Torres took a shallow breath. "And I'm readings three life signs in Holodeck One."

* * *

Prussia got up quietly from where he had been sitting, leaned against the outer door of the cell. This was… definitely interesting.

He had been right, the two Americans had started talking freely the instant they had thought they were alone. With his above average hearing, it had been a simple matter to listen in. His lips twisted in a wry grin. They certainly weren't very good at their job. Saying their codes aloud (okay, so only he had been capable of hearing them in that setting, but still) and giving away blatant information like this without checking first if they were bring watched were both rookie mistakes. That gave him a small sense of relief. If he _was_ being held by some hostile secret American organization (and it was starting to look that way more and more) then at least he had the upper hand. They clearly didn't know fully what they were dealing with.

Prussia kept walking out of the small building. He needed to think about this, and he definitely wasn't going to get any reasonable thoughts out with that Gruber sniveling all over the place. The nation snorted in amusement. That had been fun. He hadn't pulled rank in a while.

Prussia took a deep breath of the cool air, absentmindedly noting the harsh, almost metallic taste of it. He made a face. Ugh, was even the _air_ fake?

He was almost positive now that this was some sort of man-made world. The way that Paris and Kim had spoken about it to "Torres", whoever that was, heavily implied that they had created it. And apparently they had tried brainwashing him in some fashion, but it hadn't worked. They knew that he knew.

Prussia swore softly under his breath. He hadn't even known that America had had this technology. How long had the western nation been hiding this?

Prussia was going to find out.

* * *

The door to the Astrometrics lab swished open with a faint hiss of displaced air. Torres glanced over her shoulder to confirm who it was before turning back to her console. Seven didn't even do that much; she just kept methodically inputting data.

"You wanted to see us, B'Elanna?" Janeway looked slightly intrigued and a tad worried at the same time. Chakotay had followed her in, and stood, hands behind his back, glancing around the room. Tuvok's face was impassive, but that was the Vulcan Security Officer's default expression. Torres nodded, turning fully around as she leaned slightly on the console.

"Yes, I wanted to show you all this." She nodded at Seven, who raised an eyebrow in return and pressed the appropriate sensor. They all looked up as a chart of data flickered up onto the room's main screen.

"This is our sensor log of the moment of impact from the temporal anomaly we encountered at 0800 hours." Seven explained. "I did not think it was significant. However," here she gave Torres an appraising look. "Another matter was brought to my attention, and so I ran a deeper scan." A soft series of beeping was heard as Seven deftly zoomed in on the image, rotating it and warping it. "The anomaly was precisely 1.77 meters long, and upon further inspection…" With a final twist the golden glowing outline stopped and assumed its final shape. "This was its exact outline."

With varying degrees of surprise, the room's five occupants found themselves staring at a very familiar image. The silhouette of a tall human man rotated gently in space. Janeway looked at Chakotay in mild alarm. "And you think…"

"Immediately after receiving this image," Seven interrupted coolly, "I ran a scan concerning the crew complement onboard. Currently, we have one hundred and forty-six crew members onboard. However," she pulled up another screen and turned around, facing the captain. She inclined her head meaningfully. "Sensors are reading one hundred and forty- _seven_ humanoid life signs aboard Voyager."

"Look like we have another unintended passenger," Chakotay remarked dryly.

"Do you know where this individual is currently located?" Tuvok inquired, ever mindful of security risks.

Torres grinned wryly. "We don't know for certain, but we're pretty sure he's on Holodeck One. Harry and Tom found think they found him. They called me when they couldn't shut down their program from the inside."

Janeway chuckled. "What, was someone not acting German enough?"

Torres shook her head, the beginnings of a worried expression setting in on her face. "He was acting a little _too_ German, actually." At the other's startled expressions, she nodded. "Yeah, according to the two of them, they found a man, "Gilbert Beilschmidt," while they were going about in the normal program. They said he arrested them because he knew that something was wrong and the world wasn't real. But he looks and acts like he belongs in that time period." She snorted. "He even pulled rank to get to use the jail!"

"That is why we wanted to discuss this with you," Seven said calmly. Tuvok nodded.

"If he is from that era in human history, then he will most likely be hostile," Tuvok theorized, the Vulcan equivalent of concern appearing for a moment. He exchanged a glance with Janeway. "We should have a security team standing by to apprehend him if the situation becomes dangerous."

"Agreed," Janeway said, face contemplative. "But first we should try talking to him." Making up her mind, she looked up and nodded at the Engineer. "Stand by to cut power on the Holodeck." Janeway gestured to her second and third in commands. "Chakotay, Tuvok, you're with me. Tuvok," she turned to the Vulcan. "Have a couple of your men accompany us and stand by in case anything goes wrong." Tuvok tilted his head in acknowledgement.

"Alright." Janeway shrugged her shoulders. "Let's go meet our new guest."

* * *

Prussia was absentmindedly leaning against one of the older buildings when it disappeared.

After his initial (manly) yelp of surprise, he caught himself with the reflexes born from hundreds of years of fighting and managed to stay on his own two feet. He looked around him with a touch of panic, eyes widening as he took in this new development.

The entire world, people included, had vanished. In its place stood a small room, rigidly aligned into perfect corners and edges. The same, consistent black and gold outline stood out vibrantly from the walls in steady squares.

His senses caught up with him, and he froze as he realized that, of course, only the things that hadn't been real in the first place would have disappeared. And behind him…

"Take it easy, Beilschmidt." Prussia turned in a swift jerk, eyes narrowing. Paris held out his hands in a placating gesture. "Let's talk for a minute." He and Kim both stood a few meters away, despite the fact that he had left them all the way on the other side of town. The nation's eyes flashed downwards and took an involuntary step backwards when he saw that they both had regained their weapons.

" _Was habt ihr gemacht?_ " he hissed tensely.

Paris blinked. "What?"

"The universal translator should have translated that," Kim muttered under his breath to his companion. Prussia paused for a second, wrong-footed. He hadn't realized that he had said that in German.

He tensed and pivoted again at the new sound behind him, trying to keep both dangers in view at the same time. A metal door that he hadn't previously noticed had opened with a quick hissing sound, showing a bright hall outside.

An unusual trio had entered the room. Prussia's gaze skimmed over them, noting their strange, uniform-like clothing and ready, professional stances. Their body language clearly stated that this was their area of expertise. He glanced behind them, and swore silently at the sight of two more men blocking his only visible way out. The metallic guns they were holding might not be anything he had encountered before, but Prussia was experienced enough in the ways of warfare to know weapons when he saw them.

His eyes shot back to the front trio, and he almost choked at another, almost invasive feeling that curled up through his chest. The man on the far left was staring him down with a calm, set gaze. Prussia caught his breath. That man _wasn't human._

Prussia recoiled, his mind screaming at him to fight and _get out of there now_.

"Mr. Beilschmidt…" The women in front had stepped slightly forwards. Her face was sympathetic and diplomatic, and she spoke reassuringly. Prussia took another step back, keeping a steady distance from the people on both sides. Paris and Kim hadn't moved since the others had entered the room.

"I know that this is strange and confusing to you, but I'm going to ask you to calm down and listen what I have to say." The women placed a hand over her chest. "My name is Captain Kathryn Janeway." Janeway held out her arms, palms up. "We're not going to hurt you."

 _We're not going to hurt you_. Those last six words rang bitterly in Prussia's ears. He flinched at the sudden reminder of a particular voice, in that particular place. Barbed wire and blood. And pain. Oh, he remembered pain.

The final twig snapped.

"That's what they all said," he whispered hoarsely. Not giving them any time to react, he snarled and sprung forwards from a standstill, charging for the open door. He barely registered the women and her companion's shocked expressions before slamming into another warm body. An impossibly strong hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he knew that if he had been human, he would have been brought to his knees. As it was, the unexpected counter-attack made his head swim and Prussia faltered for a second, suddenly dizzy.

He growled and broke the unwelcome hold, staring up fiercely into the dark eyes of the inhuman. Prussia practically tasted the other's surprise as he twisted, slamming a powerful elbow directly into his ribcage. The alien (for what else could he be?) doubled over, and the nation took advantage of the moment to heave him as far away from him as he could manage, which turned out to be the opposite wall. The black and gold clad man hit it with a satisfying thud and enough force to knock out a normal human. Which unfortunately, he wasn't, but Prussia was taking the small victories today.

The two men stationed outside had brought their weapons up the instant Prussia made a move, but he was like enraged whirlwind, blowing through them before they had time to draw breath. Ignoring the unknown weapons that had been dropped and the havoc he had just caused, Prussia bolted down the unfamiliar hallway towards a dubious freedom.

* * *

Janeway pivoted on the spot, a shocked and perturbed look drawn clearly on her features. She took in the scene that had only taken the span of a few seconds, and tapped her comm-badge, issuing a ship wide alert.

"This is Captain Janeway. Red Alert." Janeway glanced around grimly. The two security officers that had been stationed outside were gradually pulling themselves together, and Tuvok had already regained his feet on the opposite of the Holodeck.

"We have an Augment on board."

* * *

 **Yay, another chapter! Yeah, I know this one is a lot shorter than the other one. Oh well. I kind of needed to stop here.**

 **Also, I know that this is kind of a weird crossover, and I don't really expect that many people to read it… But I just really wanted to write this because I feel that some things just match up** _ **perfectly**_ **. So it's fun.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Eek… It's been a while. Life caught up to me.**

* * *

Prussia was having an off day.

He had accepted that being dissolved wasn't exactly going to be a walk in the park. He didn't want to leave and disappear. But if you had told him a few hours ago that he was going to be mysteriously transported to a fabricated reality, have to run and try to escape from crazy Americans with seemingly impossible technology, and on top of all that, accept the fact that there are aliens after all? He would have told you that you had a little too much to drink.

The blaring klaxon alarm and the flashing red lights only added to the nation's anxiety. Prussia lengthened his stride, dodging around yet another uniformed person. The man gave a startled noise and tapped the arrowhead badge that Prussia had noticed everyone else was wearing.

"Intruder's in Section A, corridor 12!"

Prussia swore under his breath as he ran on. His eyes flickered around him. All of his instincts screamed at him to get off this main corridor, now. Where could he get away?

Spotting two men in yellow and black uniforms ahead, Prussia quickly dodged down the nearest hallway on the right. Not a moment too soon. Twin beams of light struck the spot he had been standing barely a second before with a vicious hissing sound. The nation's eyes widened in shock and he chanced a glance over his shoulder. A faint, acrid smell of burning material met his lungs. There were two smoking and blackened holes where the weapons had struck the metal of the walls. Where the hell had this technology come from?!

" _If America has had this stuff all along_ ," Prussia thought grimly. " _Then we should be glad he just decided to drop the Atomic Bomb on Japan."_ A deep pain throbbed momentarily in his chest at the reminder of wounds recently healed.

Focusing once more on where he was running too, the nation skidded around another corner. Taking it at full speed, Prussia let himself slam shoulder first into the opposite wall, rebounding off the wall to abruptly change the direction of his momentum.

Taking another swift glance behind him, he noted that he had gained quite an amount of time and space on his pursuers. Prussia allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. Almost nothing could catch a nation when they got going.

This satisfaction vanished in a flash, to be replaced by irritation and trepidation at the sudden sight of three _more_ men stepping out into the hallway before him, all armed. Prussia rapidly backpedaled, dropping a vehement oath in German. It was the inhuman from earlier. The nation ducked as the now unfortunately familiar beams of light shot towards him, flattening himself on the wall. Another set of weapon fire greeted him from the opposite side, and he cursed his bad luck. Great, now he was pinned down from _both_ sides.

Prussia's hand met some control panel on the wall he was clutching, making a strange beeping noise. Prussia almost didn't notice the unknown sound. He was promptly startled by the wall behind him giving way. Suppressing what would have been his second yelp of surprise that day, he fell into an easy and practiced backwards roll. Coming to his feet a second later, the nation lunged forwards and smashed his booted foot into the delicate-looking technological panel on the side of the recently discovered door. It practically shattered under his frenzied nation strength. A flurry of sparks filled the air as the now-destroyed and blackened panel gave a screech of stressed metal.

Prussia stood for a moment, breathing hard. From the noises his attackers were making on the other side of the firmly shut door, he had bought himself a few seconds. The nation gave himself a quick rundown. Nothing injured. He turned sharply, taking in the rest of the room. Prussia caught his breath again in shock.

"The universe really does feel like screwing with me today, doesn't it," he muttered. He could practically hear it out there, _giggling_ at him.

A majestic spread of deep black peppered with gleaming diamonds of unearthly light met his gaze. He stared at it, not entirely believing his eyes. The vast emptiness was right there, just outside the window that stretched across the entire side of the room.

Prussia shook his head. There it was. Space. He was in space.

"Why am I in space?" Prussia grumbled, feeling that nothing could possibly get weirder than it already was. His eyes searched the rest of the room, noting the tables and the bar that indicated that this was a mess hall of some sorts. He froze as he saw that he was not alone in the room after all.

The man-or alien, rather- that was crouched behind the bar was a riot of color in an almost garish suit and a long plume of feather-like hair running over his head. He held a frying pan with a determined scowl, looking thoroughly unintimidated by the nation's sudden entrance. Prussia's eyes fell behind the figure, and it was with a pang of surprise that he noticed just what the other man was protecting.

A pair of wide blue eyes peeked out from under the alien's arm. The young redheaded girl, looking around ten, stared at Prussia in fright. Prussia stared back, the warrior part in him going into instant survival mode. If he had a hostage, then it would be much easier to get around, and get out of wherever this was…

No. Prussia viciously squashed that repellent idea in his mind, angry at even considering it. What was he, one of those damn SS men? He would get out of this on his own terms.

There was a crunching noise from the door as it was forced open a few inches. Prussia snapped out of his reverie and promptly bolted for the door on the opposite side of the room. It swished open when he was still a few feet away from it, letting him through easily. He took the left and continued his flight to freedom.

Although now he was uncertain whether or not that was actually going to be a possibility for him.

* * *

It was very common for things on Voyager to get a bit slow. It was inevitable this far away from home. Sometimes it felt like they were never going to get any closer; and weeks and months would pass by uneventfully. Today, however, was not one of those days.

Captain Kathryn Janeway was very, very worried.

She tapped her console on the back of the bridge again, calling Engineering. Torres's familiar aggravated expression popped up on screen. Janeway nodded towards her.

"Lieutenant. Has anything changed at all?"

"No, not yet." Another engineer walked up and handed a PADD to Torres, which she quickly checked. "The force fields are still in place around all vital systems." The engineer's voice hit a particularly frustrated pitch. "I'm still not finding any evidence of him anywhere."

"Well, not finding anything is still better than finding him after he blows out an airlock or something." Paris chimed in wryly, looking up from where he was stationed. Janeway shook her head.

"It's been an hour and a half since the security detail completely lost sight of the intruder." Janeway turned, rubbing the back of her neck tiredly. She gestured a hand in exasperation. "Why hasn't he done anything yet? He could have caused immense damage by now, with his hiding in access conduits and Jefferies tubes." She sighed.

The main turbolift swooshed open, drawing most of the bridge staff's attention for a moment. Tuvok entered the bridge, his Vulcan mask looking even stonier than usual. At Janeway's question-laden look, he barely shook his head.

"My security teams have not found anything new evidence of the intruder's whereabouts." The Security Officer's voice was icily calm. A heavy silence filled the air.

"I think we might be going about this the wrong way." Chakotay spoke up. Janeway turned to her First Officer, eyebrow raised.

"What are you suggesting?" Janeway's tone made it clear that any suggestion would be welcome. Chakotay shifted on the spot, brow furrowed in thought as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"Well, for one thing, a lot of the facts don't add up." Chakotay spoke slowly, evidently turning the situation carefully over in his mind. "We have a temporal anomaly that yields an unknown humanoid on the Holodeck." He gestured in Paris's general direction. "But you didn't notice him. He blended in."

The attention of most of the bridge crew turned to Paris, who shifted uncomfortably under the sudden scrutiny. "Yeah, well…" He shrugged his shoulders in an absentminded gesture. "He _acted_ completely in character for the time period. He was even speaking in German, although it didn't get translated a few times." He stopped, puzzled for a moment. "They knew him." Paris looked up, a new realization dawning on his face. "Chakotay is right, that doesn't add up. That level of genetic engineering wasn't around until the beginning of the 21st century! How could Beilschmidt have been around and known in the 1940's?"

"And that might be the reason that Beilschmidt hasn't done anything yet." Chakotay turned back to Janeway, posture serious. "Maybe he doesn't know how to." Janeway blinked. She shifted, crossing her arms in mild incredulity as she too thought that over.

"Are you suggesting that he's not an Augment?" Janeway asked. Chakotay sighed and glanced around.

"I don't know exactly what I'm suggesting," he admitted. "But it looks like he actually is from the World War Two time period."

"That is highly unlikely," Tuvok interjected. "The intruder has shown physical capabilities that were not available for that period of human development." Janeway nodded in agreement, recalling the ease in which Beilschmidt had thrown the Vulcan off of him.

"Maybe he's an earlier version of an Augment?" Paris suggested. "Homicidal psychopath 1.0?" Janeway mouth twitched upwards at that piece of dark humor before coming back to the problem at hand.

"Well, whatever Beilschmidt is, we need him contained, and to do that, we need to find him." Arms akimbo, she glanced out at the silent assembly of officers. "Any ideas?"

"Well, I don't know much about Earth history, but I do know that whatever section he's hiding in, it must be shielded because our internal sensors aren't picking anything up," Torres chimed in grumpily from the screen. "They aren't built for that kind of fine-tuned searching. The life signs are all mixed up. And he's obviously not wearing a communicator, so we can't track him that way."

"Wait, I have something that might work." Paris stood up, the beginnings of an idea glimmering in his eyes. "Maybe to catch a 20th century man, we need to _think_ like a 20th century man." A pause filled the air.

"Explain," Tuvok inquired. Paris came up the ramp to the back of the bridge and peered into the screen Engineering was projected on.

"B'Elanna, do you think you could rig a low-frequency energy pulse to run through the ship?" Paris asked. Torres frowned, head tilted to the side as she contemplated the necessary adjustments and calculations in her head.

"Yeah, that shouldn't be too much trouble. I'll need a bit to modify the emitters, though. Why?"

"Mister Paris?" Janeway looked in askance to the Lieutenant. Paris a deep breath, a now-familiar signal to his friends and commanding officers that he was about to go on one of his Earth history rants.

"In the 20th century, since we didn't have anything of the same technology of our scanners, they relied on a primitive form of detection known as sonar, or radar, depending on what they were using. Sonar was used in submarine warfare and radar was in above ground conditions." Paris gestured ones of his hands in an exaggerated wave motion. "By using sound and normal space radio waves, they could detect moving objects when they bounced off them." There was a silence as those around him processed that.

"And you think that this will work inside Voyager?" Janeway asked, taking the unorthodox idea in stride. Paris paused as he thought it over.

"In theory, that just might," Torres interjected. She inputted a few modifications into her PADD and nodded at whatever answer she received. Glancing up, she grinned and shrugged. "We'll need to make some modifications to the internal sensors as well because they're not equipped to pick up that kind of pattern reading, but I _think_ we may have just found an answer to our missing intruder problem."

"I can help with that," Chakotay said. Answering the unspoken question before it was voiced, he explained. "When… we were in the Badlands, we did something similar when our subspace communications couldn't cut through the interference." Janeway raised an eyebrow.

"Well, get on it, Commander." Janeway descended the slope on the bridge back to her chair. "Collaborate with Seven in Astrometrics." She settled back into the seat and nodded at the assembled officers. "I want this done as soon as possible, before our mysterious Mr. Beilschmidt decides to do something drastic."

"Yes, Captain."

* * *

The soft metallic clinking of Prussia's heels against the rungs of the ladder echoed around the cramped space of the maintenance shaft. Coming to a momentary halt, the nation slid off the narrow ladder into an adjacent tunnel. A quick crawl and hop later, he was in another room. The multiple tunnels splitting off gave the space a bigger feeling than its actual dimensions.

Prussia gingerly lowered himself to the floor, suppressing a wince as a wave of dizziness struck him at the motion. Sighing, he wearily rested his back against the side of the tunnel. The burst of adrenalin he had been running on in the beginning had worn off. Whatever he had gone through to get here, it had taken a toll on his body. Figuratively, Prussia was running on empty.

The nation grumbled under his breath, dragging a tired hand down his face in annoyance. How long had it been? Around two hours now, he thought. Two hours since everything familiar had been completely turned around. Prussia heaved a deep breath and set both hands down.

"Okay, so this is ridiculous." Prussia held up one finger. "First off, I have no idea where I actually am, but I am nowhere near Earth and I can't feel anyone." Another finger rose. "Also, I am on some strange ship swarming with crazy Americans." He was certain this was a ship now. The faint rumblings, the structural layout- it made sense. Prussia made a face. "Normally, I _like_ Americans." Alfred was pretty okay, as nations went. Sure they had their unfortunate moments, (two world wars did that) but there no real animosity between the two of them. "But this technology is _years_ of anything we have, and it came out of nowhere." A tense fist clenched in frustration. "How were you hiding this from the rest of us, America?"

The last question echoed around the tunnels. The walls did not answer. That was perfectly fine with Prussia. He sounded crazy enough talking to himself here…

"And then there's the aliens!" Prussia threw up his hands, and promptly winced as the shout rattled around uncomfortably in the confined space. "Why are there aliens?"

As the last smatterings of sound faded away, Prussia became aware of a new change in the atmosphere. He frowned, taking a moment to place what was changing. The rumblings were quickly fading, accompanied by a faint whistling sound that reminded him of a fighter plane diving in reverse, if that were possible. The ship was stopping. Wary of this new development, Prussia cautiously got to his feet. Change did not spell anything good for him. Maybe they had found a way to locate him?

* * *

Captain Janeway paced in front of her chair, hands behind her back. She watched the starscape on the main viewscreen gradually shorten as Voyager dropped back into normal space.

"Report."

Side by side with Chakotay in Astrometrics, Seven responded. "Astrometrics is ready, Captain."

Janeway nodded, tilting her head. "B'Elanna?"

"We're ready here too, Captain."

"Alright." Janeway looked around the bridge. Tuvok looked up from his station and met her gaze.

"The Doctor has informed me that the canisters are in place," the Vulcan Security Officer stated impartially. Janeway inclined her head in return and stood up straighter. She clasped her hands behind her back, spine professionally upright.

"Begin the scan."

* * *

Prussia was on the verge of beginning his climb back through the tunnel when he felt the barest shift in his senses. He froze, clinging to the ladder. There it was. The faint humming swelled and fell in a consistent wave pattern.

Prussia tilted his head, thinking furiously. That pattern was very familiar. Far too familiar. The uneasy feeling grew inside his chest. He had noticed this before, and the outcome had _not_ been a pleasant one.

A quick memory of a dark, cold passage much like the one he was currently in flashed to the front of his mind. A different noise, but the same arrangement. Ping… ping… ping…

A great shuddering, screeching sound, and freezing water pouring in.

Oh, no.

* * *

"Captain, we are receiving a scan from the energy pulse." Seven's forehead creased ever-so-slightly in concentration as she watched her screen. Chakotay wordlessly modified the data as it came in.

Across the black screen, superimposed with an electric blue outline of Voyager's layout, the green wave representing the pulse sailed from one side to the other in a consistent fashion. All over the screen, small yellow blips, each representing a person, flickered like hundreds of tiny fireflies.

"Okay…" Chakotay typed in a new code before looking up at the former Borg drone. "Let's narrow the field to signs not registered with a communicator." Seven nodded, already working on it. A few tense seconds passed.

* * *

In the Jefferies tube, Prussia stayed completely still, barely daring to breathe. Sonar depended mostly on the movement of incoming objects, so maybe if he waited it out…?

* * *

In the aft section of the ship diagram, a new, red light flickered in warning. Seven immediately widened that section of the scan and narrowed the field down to the immediate vicinity of the signal change. There was the barest hint of satisfaction on her face as she confirmed the reading.

Glancing back over to Chakotay, she straightened up and tapped the arrow-shaped badge. "Captain, we believe we have found the intruder. Aft Jefferies tubes, floor 9, section C."

"Understood."

* * *

Back on the Bridge, Janeway pivoted, entire demeanor calm and business-like.

"Mr. Tuvok?" The Vulcan verified his response on the Science Station's console before replying.

"Engineering has informed me that the restriction force-fields are in place. The neurozine is ready to be released."

"Good. Do it." Janeway swung back around. "Have your security teams ready to secure Beilschmidt as soon as he's out in the open."

"Yes, Captain." With a nod to the waiting yellow and black clad men, Tuvok entered the turbolift.

* * *

The humming was abruptly cut off. Prussia didn't move from where he was, holding tightly onto the ladder. Had they given up?

A faint hissing sound blew that theory out the window.

Prussia whipped his head around, wide eyes searching for the source. Above him, a small vent was leaking an almost invisible gas. The nation swore harshly under his breath, coughing as the sickly sweet smell was drawn in with his inhale. The hazy effects of whatever chemical they were using was already encroaching on his senses, making the world around him flicker.

Prussia made a split second decision. He stepped backwards off the rungs and let gravity take hold.

* * *

"Whoa," Chakotay muttered. The red dot that was Beilschmidt had suddenly dropped almost 10 levels in a matter of seconds. Beside him, Seven was equally surprised, although she didn't show it past a slight eyebrow raise.

"He jumped," she concluded, rather unnecessarily. Turning immediately detached and professional again, she quickly moved the force fields to the surrounding levels. "He cannot go any lower, therefore this hallway"-Seven highlighted the area-"is his only escape route."

Chakotay shrugged in response. "Directing the neurozine to the new pathways… now."

* * *

The landing hurt like hell. Even though Prussia had held on to the sides of the ladder to slow his descent (giving him some painful burns across his fingers and palms), he was still practically falling full speed by the time he hit the bottom of the shaft.

He felt the fracture crack in his ankle, letting a burst of familiar fiery pain claw its way up his legs. They buckled upon impact, sending him sprawling onto the cold metal floor. Prussia groaned breathlessly, mind temporarily muddled with the combination of pain and lack of oxygen.

The approaching hissing sound reminded him of his current situation and he quickly scrambled to his feet again. Coughing, he bolted for the archway on his left. He would have to find somewhere else- but this was starting to get awfully difficult… He had made it out into a corridor again and was starting to pick up speed again when-

Prussia crashed into a barrier of nothing and was flung to the floor for the second time in the past minute.

The nation snarled with equal parts pain and ire. " _Was?!"_

He rolled back upright. Carefully, Prussia stuck both hands out, recoiling when a shimmering, tingling field of energy materialized at his touch. His eyes widened in astonishment. " _Was_ ist _das?!_ "

Whatever it was, it was blocking his way. Spinning around, Prussia made for the other direction, only to be stopped by the same translucent wall. The same situation was replicated twice more. He was stuck in this small intersection of corridors. And the gas was still coming in.

Breathing hard, Prussia slammed both fists into one of the walls, sending a ripple across its face. The wall didn't yield an inch. Frustrated, he took a few steps back and slammed his shoulder into it, suppressing a yelp as it accomplished nothing other than giving him a newly bruised shoulder and an uncomfortable pins and needles feeling.

The gas was starting to fog his vision. Prussia shook his head angrily, fighting to keep a clear mind. The smallest flickers of panic were starting to rise up in his chest. This was too similar, too soon.

Prussia wheezed with every breath he took. Through the fuzzy edges of his view, he dully noticed the familiar black and yellow clad figure just outside his trap. Shakily, he tried standing up straight in a last defiance, only to have his legs give out on him. He stumbled to his knees, still fighting the effects of the anesthesia with a stubbornness that everyone who had ever known him knew that he possessed in immense amounts.

The last thing he remembered was lying limp on the floor, plagued by memories of a place he had tried to forget.

* * *

Tuvok watched wordlessly; hand on phaser, as the white-haired intruder finally succumbed to the effects of the neurozine. Fascinating… Beilschmidt had clearly been fighting the anesthesia, if the concentrated look on his face had been anything to go by.

"Tuvok to the Astrometrics." Chakotay replied quickly.

"Go ahead, Tuvok."

The Vulcan appraised the still, blue-uniformed figure before answering.

"The intruder has been contained. It is safe to remove the force fields."

"Acknowledged. Dropping them now." After a few seconds, the sparkling barrier vanished with a high-pitched hum. Tuvok approached Beilschmidt and knelt beside him. Looking up, he nodded to Ensigns Wethers and Marks, who had accompanied him on the security detail. The blond security women nodded curtly in return, while Marks visibly relaxed.

Tuvok tapped his badge, internally the Vulcan equivalent of relieved that his job had been successfully carried out.

"Tuvok to Engineering. Two to beam directly to the brig."

* * *

 **German: Was ist das?- What is that? Or -What is this? I've been told it's flexible.**

 **Gaaaaaaah. That was hard. Sorry it took so long. I actually know how this ends, so don't worry about me dropping this story. I WILL NOT.**

 **Favorites make me shriek, Follows make me gasp, and Reviews make me faint out of happiness. Because they mean that someone is actually reading this. Yay!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, so I realized that I forgot my disclaimer. I don't own Hetalia or Star Trek. If I did, I would probably be writing actual books instead of fanfiction.**

 **Wow, so I know it's been forever. I had this little thing called life take over. Sadly, fanfiction is not one of my priorities… So these updates are going to be really slow.**

 **Enjoy the chapter, though!**

* * *

"So, we've found our mysteriously augmented Mr. Beilschmidt, have we?" the only holographic crewmember mused as he caught up with Captain Janeway in the corridor. Janeway paused in her quick strides for a moment, glancing sideways as the Doctor drew alongside. The EMH was carrying a large medical case, and was looking much more interested in the proceedings than usual.

"Yes, fortunately," the Captain replied in a heartfelt tone, resuming her previous pace. "That was good work with the neurozine, Doctor."

"Well, you know me. Saving lives, rescuing Voyager, stopping intruders; all in a day's work!" The Doctor waved a careless hand, looking incredibly smug. Janeway bit back a smile as the two rounded the corner and stopped in front of the brig's doors

"Yes. Hopefully you can tell us a little more about Mr. Beilschmidt." Janeway pressed the control pad on the side of the entrance, keying the doors to open. "We'd like to find out what he really is so we can figure out how to deal with this situation." The Doctor cheerfully hummed a confirmation, clearly eager to have a new subject to study.

Tuvok glanced up from his station behind the security console as the two entered the Brig's rather cramped confines. "Captain."

"Mr. Tuvok." Janeway paused in front of the cell's shimmering force field, looking warily at still blue-uniformed figure within. "How is our guest?"

Tuvok blinked impassively, following his Captain's gaze. Beilschmidt lay prone on the cell's wide bench. The man's sharp features were barely softened in this unconscious state. A fierce look still furrowed his brow, his shaggy white hair falling ever so slightly across his forehead. It was now, up close, that Janeway realized how young he was. Beilschmidt couldn't be much older than Harry Kim.

"He has not stirred," Tuvok answered. "I have had no issues."

"Of course he hasn't moved," the Doctor scoffed. The EMH shook his head in exasperation, rolling his eyes. "I calibrated the amount of neurozine to account for augmented physiology." The Doctor pointedly raised an eyebrow at Tuvok, who merely raised one in return. "He should stay unconscious for another hour, minimum."

"Which is why, I presume, that you are now here to examine Mr. Beilschmidt?" Tuvok finished for him.

"Precisely."

"Very well." With a few precise commands, Tuvok deactivated the force field, keeping an unconscious hand on his holstered phaser as he did so. Heaving a small huff, the Doctor stepped over the metal barrier that stuck up from the floorplates. He straightened up and adjusted his grip on his medical case as the energy field sprung back into existence behind him.

The Doctor set the medical case down on the floor and unlatched it. He pulled the standard tricorder out of the dark gray foam supporting the other tools and flipped it open, humming softly to himself.

"Now, Mr. Beilschmidt," the Doctor addressed the currently unconscious young man, "let's see what you have to say for yourself, shall we?" Behind him, Janeway sighed and crossed her arms. Shifting with impatience, she stared up at the ceiling with the air of someone that had been through this many times before. Tuvok's countenance changed to one of Vulcan amusement.

Still humming to himself, the Doctor gently moved the tricorder through the air along the length of Beilschmidt's body. For a few seconds, the only sounds heard in the Brig were the whirring of the medical equipment and the EMH's faint rendition of "You Are My Sunshine."

"Increased density of muscle fibers…" the Doctor muttered as he checked the readings coming from the tricorder. "Oxygen processing rates are at… 50% above normal humans. Mmhmm… Heart is _very_ efficient." The motions stopped, keeping the tricorder above Beilschmidt's forehead. The Doctor pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Much higher level of synaptic activity. Particularly in the limbic system." The Doctor paused and set down the tricorder in favor of another, more specialized device. He turned on the triangular sensor, running a quick blue sensory bar over his patient's face before reexamining it.

"That's fascinating." The EMH's voice was in slight awe. "There is almost a complete lack of glucocorticoids in the hippocampus. And that section, along with the basal ganglia, appears to have its own specialized network of hyper-neurons."

"It's been a while since I took Human Anatomy and Physiology, Doctor." Janeway's tone was dry. "Care to enlighten me?" The Doctor nodded absentmindedly, already readying a hypospray.

"The limbic system contains the memory processing center of the human brain." The Doctor explained airily, checking the sample container on the hypospray. He looked appreciatively at the unconscious man. "Mr. Beilschmidt must have near perfect memory. Probably remembers practically everything that has ever happened to him."

The hypospray made its usual hissing sound as the Doctor pressed it to Beilschmidt's neck. The small cylinder quickly filled up with the dark red of human blood. The man twitched slightly, giving the EMH a moments pause, but there appeared to be no other reaction. The Doctor plucked out the sample and peered at it for a moment, shaking it gently. Shrugging, he carefully set it back in his medical case before reclaiming his tricorder.

"So, Captain," the EMH rose to his feet and turned to face Janeway. "Mr. Beilschmidt appears to be in perfect health, aside from an old fracture in his left ankle that is a few months healed. He does in fact share many similarities with the past records of Noonien Singh's Augments from the 22nd century. Albeit on a much more refined and sophisticated level. Although…" the Doctor frowned, turning and scanning Beilschmidt again. He paused, looking a bit bemused at the readings he was receiving.

"Doctor?" Tuvok inquired.

The hologram sat back beside the subject and studied him again. "Normally…" he started hesitantly. "When a living subject is produced as the result of genetic engineering through DNA resequencing, as Singh's Augments were, there are key signs -traces of the tampering in the genetic level. However," the Doctor checked his medical equipment again. "I see no such tampering in any of these readings."

Janeway shifted, drumming her fingers on her hip. "Could it just be a malfunction in your equipment?"

"It's possible, but unlikely," the Doctor started. "I recalibrated the"-

A small exhale of breath was the only signal anyone in the room had before a pair of red eyes snapped open.

The Doctor drew back involuntarily, but Beilschmidt was already moving. The hologram didn't flinch as one pale hand wrapped itself around his throat and slammed him into the cell wall, the other pinning the hand that held the still humming tricorder safely out of reach. Tuvok's hand immediately went for his phaser, fully prepared to deactivate the force field and take the hostile intruder down. That movement was halted a moment later as he realized: any phaser beam on a sufficiently powerful level to knock the augmented human unconscious would most likely completely destroy the EMH's program. Janeway had also involuntarily taken a step forward at Beilschmidt's lightning-quick movement, but upon glancing at her Security Officer, had come to the same conclusion and stopped.

The Doctor, for his part, was trying to not to look too taken startled at the sudden change in events and carefully studying his attackers face. The unfocused cast of the albino's stark red eyes and the quiet hitched breathing told him that Beilschmidt was most likely acting on pure instinct and not on a rationalized decision. It was no surprise to him, of course. Beilschmidt was clearly a military man.

A few tense seconds trickled by. The Doctor didn't move, and merely raised an eyebrow as the albino's eyes slowly cleared. Realization flashed over the man's features. Beilschmidt's breathing dropped back to fairly normal levels and he cocked his head, staring at the unamused EMH with a narrowed gaze.

"Oh." The man's tone was low, and a distinctly Germanic accent colored his words. "You're one of those _verdammt Geister."_

"Hardly." The Doctor's voice was dry. "I am a hologram. Now, release me, please."

Beilschmidt hesitated, glancing to the right out of the corner of his eye. Tuvok's hand was still on his phaser, but neither of the two officers outside the cell had made any further motion towards them. His lips tightened, but he carefully let go of the hologram's throat and wrist. The Doctor didn't say a word, and just checked his tricorder for damage in annoyance as the albino took a step back. Janeway relaxed a fraction and gave the EMH a meaningful look. The Doctor gathered the rest of his equipment in his case and huffily stepped back over the barrier as Tuvok momentarily dropped the shield. The albino didn't move through all of this, and simply looked on warily; seemingly ready to leap into action again at any moment.

Janeway breathed an undetectable sigh of relief as soon as the Doctor was back outside the force field. She took in the younger man as he too relaxed a hair and studied the cell he was in, rubbing the back of his neck in a pained fashion. Beilschmidt rolled his shoulders, wincing ever so slightly. It was a very… human movement. The man still kept the fierce air of a practiced fighter around his presence, but the clear discomfort with the situation plus his youthful looks made him appear less threatening that he had already shown himself to be. Janeway didn't miss the quick, keen glances that the albino was casting about, nor the still-tense set of his body.

There was another factor that distracted Janeway from her current thoughts.

"Doctor, do you have the standard universal translating matrix built into your program?" the Captain inquired. Beilschmidt, keeping a careful distance between himself and the force field, fixed the rest of them with a suspicious glance, as if puzzled by the context.

"Of course," the Doctor answered. "That was German, one of the original dialects on Earth. Mr. Beilschmidt seems to have mistaken me for the supernatural." Here the Doctor gave the Augment a withering glare. Beilschmidt looked unimpressed and grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath. "He assumed I was a ghost."

"Mr. Kim said that this had occurred before, on the holodeck," Tuvok added in anticipation of his Captain's next question. "The universal translator seems to not be working in this regard." Janeway frowned, nodding.

We'll have Seven and B'lanna run another diagnostic of that system. The arrival of our… guest may have damaged it more than we thought."

"Hey, don't blame me because your high and mighty technology isn't working." The attention in the room switched back the white-haired man as he spoke up. Beilschmidt crossed his arms, scowling at all of them. "If you hadn't brought me here, nothing would have happened."

Janeway crossed her arms in a similar fashion, looking him coolly in the eye. "I assure you, Mr. Beilschmidt, that we had nothing to do with your sudden appearance," Janeway replied.

Beilschmidt snorted in disbelief. "I'm sure. So who the hell are you people?"

The Captain drew herself up unconsciously at his scathing tone, diplomatic to the core. "I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager." She half-turned and gestured to Tuvok, who was standing behind the brig's control console. "This is my Chief of Security, Commander Tuvok." Tuvok inclined his head. Janeway nodded towards the still-irritated hologram officer. "And the Doctor, our ship's chief medical officer."

"Charmed," muttered the Doctor.

"Likewise," Beilschmidt grumbled back, to the surprise of the EMH. Janeway did her best not to show the small smile that quirked up at the corner of her lips.

The Doctor grumbled huffily to himself and caught a tighter grip on his medkit. "If you don't mind, Captain, I'll head back to sickbay to finish my analysis. Call again next time you need a hostile intruder examined."

Janeway gravely nodded her consent, determined to keep a straight face. "Very well, Doctor. I'll expect that report." At the dismissal, the EMH nodded back and stalked out of the Brig with a stiff posture, the double doors closing decisively behind him. Beilschmidt watched him go with narrow eyes.

"So," the albino man glanced around the room. He tapped a cautious finger on the force field, making a face when it buzzed at the contact. "The _starship_ Voyager. That's some nice technology you have here." His tone dripped with hostility. "It certainly would have helped a lot with the war effort." Beilschmidt made eye contact with Janeway, his red eyes burning with held back anger and suspicion.

Janeway narrowed her eyes in response, mulling that over. She understood the implications that statement gave. Was it possible that this man actually was from the 1940's? She took a shallow breath, deciding it would be best to just dive in.

"Since we appear to have different ideas of the time zone, would you care to tell me what year you believe it currently is?" the Captain challenged.

The confined human, who had been buzzing with a contained energy, became completely still. Suspicion and a hint of confusion filtered through his aggressive stance. His eyes flickered away from Janeway for a moment to an impassive Tuvok before returning to meet her gaze once more.

"…1947," Beilschmidt stated slowly. "It's 1947."

Janeway stiffened. She inspected the albino as closely as possible, using her years of diplomacy as guidance in searching for any signs of falsehood the man gave off. To her trepidation, she found none, which meant he was either an excellent liar- or he was telling the truth. She frowned, tapping her leg in concentration as she processed that. Janeway decided to take the leap.

"Do you mean to suggest that you are from 400 hundred years in the past?"

Complete empty silence reigned throughout the room. The albino man had become even stiller, if that were possible. A look of shock froze his features. After the pause had spread to an uncomfortable length, with both Starfleet officers closely watching Beilschmidt's reaction, the man swallowed and spoke.

"Come again?" His voice had become soft and hoarse, a thread of desperation trickling into the end of his query.

A quick sideways consultation with Tuvok confirmed Janeway's conclusion. Either Beilschmidt was the best actor in the history of humankind, or he was completely thrown by that particular piece of information. Janeway locked her arms behind her back, appraising Beilschmidt in a different light.

"The year is 2376." The Captain chose her words carefully, not entirely sure what to tell this man. On one hand, he appeared to be a lost human out of his own time, but there was also the unanswered augmented factor in play. "Our ship is part of Starfleet, a branch of the United Federation of Planets based from Earth. I'm afraid you're a rather long way from home."

Beilschmidt recoiled half a pace as though physically struck. His posture, which had been military straight, gradually changed to something more akin as a cornered animal, his eyes flitting from side to side. The others in the room tensed as well, caution dictating that they be prepared for anything to happen.

Almost immediately, the man stilled and his gaze turned inwards. He blankly stared at the floor, the turmoil behind his eyes fading into deep contemplation.

Finally, the albino heaved a faint sigh.

"I believe you." The human sounded suddenly exhausted.

"Just like that?" Tuvok inquired, a disbelieving eyebrow raised. Beilschmidt nodded absently, apparently not noticing the refined Vulcan skepticism.

"It… it just fits." He glanced up, red eyes suddenly seeming much older. "We're nowhere near Earth right now, are we?" Janeway shook her head, suspicion overtaking her once more.

"As it so happens, we are not." Janeway crossed her arms, bringing a new edge to her posture. "But if you happen to be from Earth in the 1940's, then how can you explain your… augmented physiology?"

At that, a new set of walls slammed up over the man's emotions, making him more withdrawn than before. The look he gave Janeway was deeply calculating.

"What do you mean by 'augmented physiology'?" he asked stiffly.

"The super human strength for one," Janeway replied just as coolly. She deliberately left out the unspoken incident, deciding against offending her Security Chief. "I believe our Doctor mentioned higher oxygen processing and brain activity along with the physical enhancements."

A faint snarl grew on Beilschmidt's face, barely breaking through the wall he had put up. "You _examined_ me?!"

Janeway met his violated gaze with raised hands, attempting to placate him.

"I am sorry if you feel as though we intruded on your personal privacy, but consider this. You appeared on my ship as an intruder, and took hostile action against my crew." Janeway lowered her arms and lifted her chin, determinedly fixing him with her gaze. "I did what I believed necessary to protect my people."

Beilschmidt's fury slowly cooled, like oil being burned off the face of water. He blew a breath out through his nose and gave her a curt nod. While the anger in his eyes didn't completely fade, understanding creeped in to join the other conflicting emotions.

"I don't know why I am the way I am," he said flatly. "I was born like this." His shoulders rose in a shrug. "It's something I live with."

The albino took a shallow breath. His focus on Janeway sharpened for a moment, the intensity of his gaze reminding the Captain of a Betazoid ambassador she had once met. His eyes, though red instead of black, had the same feeling of staring into your soul and pulling out all your secrets.

Beilschmidt seemed to like what he saw, for he relaxed a minute degree, his stance returning fully upright.

"I… will not harm your crew." The man glanced off to where Tuvok stood, brow furrowed. Tuvok met his gaze with the same sharpness and depth, a look Janeway recognized as the Vulcan version of an unspoken challenge. Beilschmidt huffed, a quiet sound that Janeway was taken aback to recognize as a laugh. A glint of teeth was seen as the corner of the albino's mouth pulled up in a wry grin.

"Since it looks like I'm stuck here, I may as well get along with you Yanks." The air of watchfulness had vanished around the young man, lightening the mood considerably.

"I know that you lot obviously have no reason to trust me yet, but that's okay." Beilschmidt glanced around his cell. Sitting back down on the bench, he folded his arms behind his head, eyes slotted lazily. "It's looks like I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

 **Yaaaay, I updated. Whew. Hopefully the next one is quicker- and longer.**

 **Thanks for reading. You... eleven people following this story. Love you guys.**


	5. Chapter 5

"So, is he actually from 1947?"

This question was currently being voiced by the ship's first officer in a mildly concerned and incredulous tone. The assembled officers glanced uncertainly around the table, not entirely sure what to make of this situation in general. The Captain had called the senior staff and bridge crew in for a conference to discuss what was to be done with their new guest.

"It… appears so," Janeway sighed. She gestured to her Security Chief. "According to what Mr. Beilschmidt shared with Mr. Tuvok and myself, he was _not_ genetically enhanced."

"Or he simply does not recall such an event happening," Tuvok put in. Janeway nodded in acknowledgement.

"So - what?" Torres spoke up. "He was _born_ that way? That seems pretty unlikely, if you ask me. _Especially_ in a pre-space-faring society. "

"Doctor?" Chakotay glanced over to where the hologram was seated, unusually quiet. "You examined the man. What did you make of his physiology?"

"Well…" The Doctor hesitated. "It's… odd. Most of his life signs match our previous records of genetically enhanced humans, specifically those from the Eugenics Wars. _However_ , in many other areas, there are stark differences."

"Explain," Seven demanded in a rising show of interest.

The Doctor frowned. "Well, for one, I took a sample of his blood. I ran some rather extensive tests on it. His genetic material is clearly not that of a naturally born human's. But even at the most basic level of his DNA, there is absolutely _no_ sign of any genetic tampering whatsoever." The hologram gave a rather annoyed shrug. "I'm currently studying the results, but conclusive evidence will take time to gather."

"So we know he's not really human," Kim interjected hesitantly for the first time. "But I think the real question is: what are we going to do with him?"

The phrase hung heavy in the as everyone solemnly thought that over.

"Harry's right." That was Paris. The man shrugged, looking around the room. "It's not exactly like we have starbase conveniently on hand. He's going to be here for a _long_ time. So, what? We pull another Suder, confine him to quarters indefinitely?"

"No." Janeway disagreed vehemently. "Crewman Suder was a unique case. Mr. Beilschmidt, other than his initial actions, has not shown any ill intent towards the crew."

"And it was understandable, the way he reacted," Chakotay admitted. "Any of us would probably have done something similar in his situation."

"But that doesn't change the fact that he clearly has the abilities to do some serious damage!" Torres burst out. She rapped her knuckles impatiently on the smooth surface of the table. "What if he tries something else?"

"Are you suggested that we keep Mr. Beilschmidt permanently confined?" Tuvok asked skeptically. Torres groaned, leaning back in her chair.

"No," the half-Klingon conceded. "I just think we need to be careful with this guy."

"Maybe a solution would be to give him a sort of… probation period."

Everyone present turned to look at the former Borg drone. Seven, who had been mostly quiet so far, had her head tilted thoughtfully in contemplation.

"Locked quarters after certain hours, restricted access to vital areas of the ship, a communicator to keep track of his whereabouts at all times, but otherwise a reasonable amount of freedom may be an acceptable place to start," she continued.

There was a general air of agreement from the rest of the room. Janeway was slowly nodding, considering the outcomes.

"It is clear that it would be illogical to keep Mr. Beilschmidt from becoming a part of the crew. He is here, and we cannot prevent him from interacting with us." Seven lifted an eyebrow, glancing at Janeway. "Perhaps we should give him a chance to prove himself."

"That's definitely better than locking him up for a few years," Paris muttered, half to himself. Kim elbowed him in the ribs, ignoring the grumble of protest from the pilot.

"I agree, Mr. Paris," Janeway said suddenly, to the man's embarrassed chagrin. "We should try to get along with our newest member as well as possible. B'Elanna, Seven, Tuvok-" the named crewmembers respectively nodded or blinked in acknowledgement. The Captain tapped her fingertip decisively on the duraplast tabletop as she gave her order. "Make the necessary arrangements."

* * *

Gilbert was bored. Sure, he had spent time in cells before, and this one was actually fairly cushy compared to most that he had been in, but it was still a prison. And this Prussian did not do particularly well with being confined for any period of time.

Besides… with no other option but to sit and wait, Gilbert's thoughts dwelled on other, darker, things.

 _Four hundred years_. It had been _four hundred years_ and he hadn't seen any of it. Just, gone. Being a nation did not mean that he was immune to the passage of time and Gilbert felt every second of those lost years weighing heavily on his mind. The dull ache in his chest had grown, and painfully sat where his heart lay. He knew what it meant. With no land, no people- he was dying. Right now he was just a remnant of the past, somehow still clinging to existence.

Gilbert groaned and smacked his head gently against the wall. "What am I doing?" he grumbled under his breath. "I get into one stupid situation and look at me." He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "I'm practically having an existential crisis over here."

The nation's gaze flicked upwards to the guard outside his cell, reminding by his own ramblings that he was not alone in the room. The man wore the same black and colored jumpsuit that he had seen most everyone else wearing, the yellow on the shoulders plus the addition of a – what, laser pistol? – leading Gilbert to assume that he was part of the security detail on board the ship. If it weren't for the subtle nose ridges and funny feeling he gave off, the man would have passed for human.

The man looked about as bored as Gilbert felt, and the nation didn't blame him. Guard duty was universally terrible.

Both men momentarily brightened as the automatic doors off to the side swished open for the first time in a couple hours.

"Neelix!" the guard exclaimed, sounding grateful for the break in the monotony. "What brings you down here?"

Gilbert flinched at the new alien feeling that swept over him. The colorful person in question smiled cheerfully at the guard, adjusting the tray he was carrying. The nation recognized him with a start. It was the alien with the frying pan.

"Crewman Lotan, how nice to see you!" Neelix nodded an exuberant greeting. "Commander Tuvok said that our new guest would require something to eat, so I decided to bring this down myself."

The crewmember glanced down at the steaming tray, then over at Gilbert sitting impassively in his cell. After a bemused moment, he shrugged and sent a pointed look over at the nation.

 _Please don't try anything,_ the look clearly said. Gilbert rolled his eyes. He'd already agreed, but apparently he was still a person worthy of suspicion.

He couldn't say he blamed them.

The shimmering field across the front of the cell went down in a few seconds, and Neelix nonchalantly joined Gilbert.

Sitting down beside the mildly perplexed nation, the alien threw him a wide grin and extended the tray to him. Gilbert stared blankly at the tray before accepting it and settling it on his lap absentmindedly.

"It's nice to properly meet you," Neelix greeted, offering a hand to shake that Gilbert hesitantly considered. He accepted to cut the awkwardness, noting the warmer temperature the other's skin carried. "I'm Neelix, the ship's moral officer."

"Gilbert Beilschmidt, though I'm sure you already knew that." Gilbert glanced down. "What's this?" He nudged the lid off of the utilitarian bowl standing in the center of the tray. A fresh cloud of steam puffed up and he blinked in surprise at the scent. "Potato soup?"

"It certainly is," the alien affirmed as the nation picked up the spoon. "I made some for Mr. Kim and Mr. Paris, so now you get to enjoy it as well." Neelix leaned a little closer, humorously intense. "German food seems to be _very_ popular with the crew, even for those with less… refined palates. Even Mr. Tuvok tried some!"

Gilbert couldn't help but grin. "Good to see that spacemen still appreciate fine cuisine." He tasted a spoonful, and was pleasantly surprised to find that indeed, it did taste like potato soup. There was a different tang in the flavor that he couldn't place, but other than that, he could have sworn he was back home for a brief moment. Discovering a roll of bread on his plate, he starting eating that, scrutinizing his seatmate while he did so.

He was certainly a colorful individual.

"Neelix- what are you?" he asked after swallowing a mouthful. His eyes swept over the other, focusing on the spots and plumes. "Are there more of… your people on this ship?" He frowned. "And how many people are on this ship? Voyager, was it?"

Neelix looked surprise and pleased by the inquiry. "I am a Talaxian," he said, placing a proud hand on his chest. "I'm the only one on Voyager, but I joined their crew after they became lost in the Delta Quadrant." He tapped his nose. "I'm currently helping them get home! There are…" Neelix pursed his lips as he mentally counted. "Maybe a hundred fifty life forms aboard? Mostly humans, but we've got Bajorans, Vulcans, Andorians…"

Gilbert narrowed his eyes, thinking, as Neelix continued his list. This ship had a definite military feel, that much he had garnered from the title "Starfleet." Neelix was clearly a civilian. And at least one child on board?

Voyager was further away from Earth than he thought.

* * *

 **Hi. I'm not dead. Though not for lack of trying.**

 **Depression sucks.**

 **This is an in-between chapter so I can work myself back into actually writing this story again. I'm also going to go back to my previous chapters and fix all the stupid mistakes. If you see any (I already caught all the German ones, so I'm good there I know what I need to do), please tell me. It makes my job a bit easier.**

 **Oh, and thanks to the Guest that literally just told me to update. I needed that. *thumbs up***


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